


Follow your heart

by starlightwalking



Series: Ataquenta Silmarillion [23]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aegnor is a Drama Queen, Aunt-Nephew Relationship, F/M, Finwëan Ladies Week 2020, Gen, Lalwen is the Cool Aunt, Relationship Advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Unlucky in love, Aikanáro turns to his aunt for advice...but Lalwen follows more of a “do as I say, not as I do” approach.
Relationships: Aegnor | Ambaráto & Írimë | Lalwen, Aegnor | Ambaráto/Andreth | Saelind, Círdan | Nowë/Írimë | Lalwen
Series: Ataquenta Silmarillion [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076816
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31
Collections: Finwëan Ladies Week 2020





	Follow your heart

**Author's Note:**

> For Finwëan Ladies Week 2020, Day 2: Findis and Írimë Lalwen!
> 
> I have a whole timeline of the First Age through Lalwen and Círdan's perspective, but I probably am never going to write the whole fic, so have one of my favorite headcanons from that verse instead. Lalwen loves all her nephews and nieces, and in the absence of parental figures the Arafinwëans turn to her. Aegnor especially has his fair share of drama...but so does Lalwen. She and Círdan are Beleriand's Longest Slow Burn Romance mostly because they're both too practical (and arospec, tbh) to rush into anything. Even when it's been 400 years and it's VERY CLEAR how you feel about things, smh...

“Aunt Lalli, I don’t know what to _do_ ,” Aikanáro said helplessly. He tugged at his already-wild hair, making it stand up even more, true anguish bleeding from his fëa.

Lalwen patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. “I don’t see what the problem is,” she said, trying not to sound unkind, but, well—she’d always been blunt and to the point. “You love her, do you not?”

“Yes,” Aikanáro bemoaned, burying his face in his hands. “And she loves me, which is—which makes it so much _worse_ —”

“Then be with her!” Lalwen exclaimed. It truly was not that difficult, if they both loved each other. So, they were of different kindreds. So, Aikanáro held the marches closest to the Enemy. So—what?

She said as much to him, and he glared. “You’re not taking this seriously, Lalli,” he snapped. “She is—she is mortal, she will _die_ and I will live on—”

“All the more important for you to seize the years you have with her, and not dither about in indecision,” Lalwen interrupted.

“Ango says—”

“When has Ango ever been right about matters of the heart?” Lalwen countered before she could hear whatever nonsense her other nephew had told him. “It took Eldalótë proposing to _him_ before he realized she truly loved him!”

“Yes, but...” Aikanáro was weeping real tears, and Lalwen realized she may have been a bit too harsh.

“Oh, Aiko...” She cradled him in her arms, for all he was twice as brawny as her and a head taller—not that she was all that short. “I am sorry. This is a difficult situation. But I believe in _love_ , dear nephew of mine, and from the way your heart is torn over this adaneth I can tell you love her. I do not wish you to be in such misery, not when she loves you also and you may be happy together!”

“But can we?” Aikanáro mumbled. “Andreth, she...we are so different. She would have bedded me, Lalli— _bedded_ me, without marriage! I know that’s not...unheard of, Ingo has certainly done it, and probably with some of the Edain, also, but...I cannot marry her. Her father would never allow her to bind herself to someone like...me.”

“Are you sure?” Lalwen asked. “You are a lord of the Noldor, a prince! Surely there would be no higher honor!”

“I am an elf, and she a mortal woman.” Aikanáro wiped a tear from his eye. “It is...we are... Why would he trust me?”

“She trusts you,” Lalwen reminded him. “Enough to bed you. That ought to be enough to wed you, too.”

“She would, if I asked,” he whispered, “even were it in secret...”

“Then what do you wait for?” Lalwen demanded. “Aiko, she wants you. You want her, it is clear. Perhaps you shall have to wed secretly, and let the truth come out at some later date. And yes, she will die, but would you not rather have cherished her in the time you have together?”

“We are at war,” Aikanáro protested weakly.

“Bah!” Lalwen swatted him gently. “They call this the Long Peace, idiot nephew. We shall be at war until Morgoth is defeated, but for now this is as close to a true peace as we shall come. If you wait, she will not be here for you to marry, and peace may not be so certain.”

“Peace is never certain,” he said gravely, and she saw the shadow of Angband in his eyes. Lalwen remembered, too late, that he lived on the frontlines, saw the machinations of the Enemy, saw his fair share of death even in peacetime...while she frolicked happily upon the western surf, far from danger and free from fear.

“Then you must make it so, for Andreth’s sake, and your children’s,” Lalwen argued.

Aikanáro paled. “ _Children_ ,” he whispered. “Could we even have children? Are we similar enough in our hröar, in our fëar...?”

“Only one way to find out, eh?” Lalwen nudged him. “Go back to her, Aiko. Follow your heart and make her yours. What have you to lose?”

“Everything,” he said miserably.

“And yet you have everything to gain, also,” she retorted.

Aikanáro stared into his palms for a long moment, then looked up to Lalwen with a frown. “Aunt Lalli, I have always come to you for advice, but...you are not always good at living your own principles.”

“What!” she exclaimed, offended that he could think such a thing. “I say what I mean, and I do what I please, and that is _exactly_ what I am telling you to—!”

“Then why do _you_ not follow your heart?” he challenged, eyes flashing. “Why do _you_ not wed the one you desire, heedless of anything but love?”

Her mouth fell open, flopping like a fish. “I— _Aiko_! I have—I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

He raised an eyebrow, for a moment looking so much like his father that Lalwen felt embarrassed. She bowed her head. “Truly,” she mumbled, “there is none who...”

“My visit to the Falas has lasted but two days so far,” he said, “and yet even _I_ can see how you look at Lord Círdan. You are so fond of him I could be sick—and yes, this is coming from me, the hopeless romantic.”

Lalwen blushed furiously. “I am _not_ in love with Círdan.” And yet—

“He likes you, too.” Aikanáro smirked, clearly enjoying this chance to needle her back after all her teasing of him. “You were _dancing_ the other night, I _saw_ you, and I’d never seen a nér more lovestruck than him as he watched you laugh and walk away to get a drink.”

“Yes you have,” she said weakly. “When was the last time you looked in a mirror?”

He rolled his eyes. “Admit it, Lalli. You’re in love. And much like me, your love wants you in return. Except _he_ is no adan, and you are no guard of the northern marches, and if you wed a lord of the Sindar I am positive my uncle the High King would be pleased at such a connection. It is why he sent you here in the first place, after all.”

Lalwen shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I always said—and he agreed, we _spoke_ of it, long years ago—neither of us are the marrying type.”

“Let this be your exception,” Aikanáro said, far gentler than she had been with him. “Come now, Lalli. If you wish me to find my happiness, is it so wrong for me to wish the same for you?”

“It’s late,” Lalwen announced, rising from the bed. “I should return to my rooms.”

“Ask Círdan to—”

“ _No_ ,” Lalwen said firmly. “Even if I _were_ to tell him how I felt—”

“So you admit there are feelings!”

She ignored this outburst. “— _we_ would take things slow,” she said. “That, dear Aiko, is a luxury you and your adaneth do not have.”

“Point taken,” Aikanáro muttered. “Goodnight, Aunt Lalli. Thank you for...listening.”  
  
“Not for speaking?” she teased, and he made a rude gesture toward her.

She chuckled as she left him to his thoughts, though by the time she arrived in her own chambers she was frowning.

She and Círdan... Lalwen pinched her nose. No, it would not work. Yes, she admired him, respected him, loved the way he laughed; yes, she’d seen his tender gazes, felt a thrill at his gentle touch, blushed at thoughts that none but him could bring to her mind... But that did not a marriage make, and she was not ready. She might never be ready.

 _I believe in love,_ she had told Aikanáro. And she did, she _did_ , but she’d never thought she would find it herself. She’d never _wanted_ it herself. Now that it was here, she didn’t know what to do with it.

 _Follow your heart,_ her own traitorous voice whispered to her. But how could she dare?

Perhaps she ought to make a deal with Aiko, she considered as she fell asleep. If he would wed his adaneth, she would admit to Círdan what she felt. That didn’t mean...anything would come of it, but...

 _That’s an idea,_ she thought drowsily. But before she could let it overcome her, she drifted into sleep, and dreamed of the sea and Círdan’s arms around her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/), and check out the [Finwëan Ladies Week blog](http://finweanladiesweek.tumblr.com/) too!


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